


moment in time

by luxizi



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Army General Lee Taeyong, Army General Lieutenant Nakamoto Yuta, Cheesy, Elves, M/M, Making Love, Mentions of War, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, magical hot spring water as lube dont question it, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26701831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxizi/pseuds/luxizi
Summary: "You need to heal and you need to rest," Yuta whispers, tucking a strand of Taeyong's own golden hair behind his pointed ear, trailing to the tip of a narrow wound that peeks out from under the collar of Taeyong's robe. "We need our General in his best shape to lead us."Nimble hands slide up Taeyong's back, gently massaging into his shoulders, as if it could take the weight of the war and the kingdom off of him. "Have a bath, love. I'll help you."
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	moment in time

**Author's Note:**

> 2 elves in a hot spring sitting 0 feet apart bc theyre very gay.
> 
> unbeta'ed

Taeyong brushes his fingers over the map that covers the entirety of the table. The pads of his fingertips have become rough over the years, he can barely feel the parchment underneath them as he traces the movements of the past battles that had been waged, details jotted down on the map slightly smudged by a splash of wine, no doubt from Youngho.

Taeyong sighs, tucking his robe tighter around his body. He was due for a bath to tend to his fresh wounds, but he could not bring himself to tear his eyes away from the war map. There had to be something on there that he wasn’t seeing just yet, something obvious, something that would help them win this war.

“You’re only going to frustrate yourself.”

Taeyong looks up, not because he doesn’t know who’s speaking—no, he knows the voice very well—but because he’s selfish and likes looking at the Lieutenant-General’s face.

It’s sharp, angled, much like his wit and tongue. His hair is crystal white and in the sweltering summer months it frames his face in waves and curls when not pulled back, long pointed ears poking through. Taeyong’s heard the children tell stories of the Lieutenant-General, born from the sparkling mist of a waterfall, who blinds his opponents with his wicked smile alone.

Yuta has always played well with the children, giving them half a smirk to feed into their excitement at being perceived by such a high-ranking individual in the elven army. He had been born to an elven couple, just like anyone else—but Taeyong had always agreed with the children that he seemed otherworldly. Yuta was, and still is, striking.

"The map isn't going to spell it out for you," Yuta leans in the entryway, crossing his arms over his chest. A small smile plays at his lips, always amused by whatever it was that Taeyong was doing in the moment, whether it was barking out orders or eating.

Taeyong sighs, heavy. "I wish it would." He shifts his gaze back to the map, pressing both his palms into the parchment, as if it would uncover an answer rather than just smudge the ink.

Yuta's bare feet make little noise on the ground as he walks over. He too wears a robe, similar to the one Taeyong has wrapped around his body. His hair is tangled in places that makes Taeyong think he must have been lying down before this.

"You need to heal and you need to rest," Yuta whispers, tucking a strand of Taeyong's own golden hair behind his pointed ear, trailing to the tip of a narrow wound that peeks out from under the collar of Taeyong's robe. "We need our General in his best shape to lead us."

Nimble hands slide up Taeyong's back, gently massaging into his shoulders, as if it could take the weight of the war and the kingdom off of him. "Have a bath, love. I'll help you."

There's a gentle press of lips to Taeyong's nape before Yuta is retreating in the direction of the hot springs, throwing a knowing smile over his shoulder. It sends a shiver down Taeyong's spine, even if it's all very familiar to him.

Taeyong takes another look at the map, rubs the stain of wine with his forefinger before he rolls his shoulders and straightens himself up. A bath will do him good, the hot springs will nurture his still aching wounds, and spending any time with Yuta that's not on the battlefield or around that damned map with the rest of the war party is a better moment than any.

The stone is cold on the souls of his feet, warming as he gets closer to the hot spring, concealed by a narrow path further into the mountain of the castle. Taeyong drags his hand across the natural rock walls, and then the flora once the passageway opens up and reveals the collection of natural misting pools.

The image of Yuta is hazy through the fog but gets clearer as Taeyong approaches. He's in the water already, eyes opening when he hears the gentle padding of Taeyong's steps. Taeyong unties his robe and folds it neatly in his arms before placing it on a rock nearby, next to Yuta's carelessly thrown one. All the while, he relishes in the way he can practically  _ feel _ Yuta drinking in the sight of him.

He slips into the pool and sits on the underwater ledge with the heaviest of sighs. The relief is almost instant, his body practically sings as the hot spring does its work. It is a gift to the mind and body, healing them in ways a simple bandage or "It's going to be okay" cannot. All he feels is the pleasant humming of his skin as his aches and pains fade while the water caresses him.

Yuta is on him in an instant.

It's another form of healing to feel the lips of a lover's trace up your shoulders, your neck, your jaw, addicted to mapping out an already familiar canvas.

Yuta’s hands trail down Taeyong’s sides, cupping his bottom to hoist him up in the water and switch their positions. Taeyong straddles his lap, arms tangling around Yuta’s shoulders as he leans in, getting as close as he possibly can. 

“I thought  _ I  _ was supposed to be relaxing,” Taeyong murmurs, his turn to mouth kisses along Yuta’s neck. There’s a thin pink line along his collarbone, a scar long-healed that Taeyong traces with his fingers. Yuta shivers.

“You know I won’t make you do an ounce of work, love.” Taeyong feels him grin before he sees it, and even if none of this is new to them, as if they haven’t already spent countless hours like this before, there’s still a glint of mischief in Yuta’s eyes as his hands massage into Taeyong’s skin. From his shoulder blades they venture lower and lower, until Yuta trails a single finger around Taeyong’s hole, teasing.

Taeyong scoffs, because there’s nothing very relaxing about being teased, but Yuta has his fun for a moment before pressing his free hand on Taeyong’s back, urging him to relax into him, and Taeyong makes a home in the crook of Yuta’s neck, inhaling, exhaling.

The steam of the hot springs fills his nose, his body, dances outside and inside of him. He can feel the water relaxing him, his muscles, as it always does. Yuta slowly inserts a single finger into him and Taeyong breathes out all of his stress.

The weight of the war, of the ones lost, the ones they might lose, the good decisions, the bad decisions—all of it escapes him in that moment. The only tension he feels is the slight stretch of his hole.

Yuta is slow and attentive in his ministrations. He presses a kiss to Taeyong’s shoulder asking an unspoken question. Taeyong nods, his mouth slightly ajar when Yuta slides a second finger in. Yuta is still slow, caring, purposeful the shallow thrusts of his fingers. It’s not the first time Taeyong thinks that he could stay like this forever. 

“You’re so good, love.” Yuta whispers and Taeyong’s back arches involuntarily. He feels Yuta smile against his skin. “Our beloved General, so good for me in my lap. I wonder what the kingdom would think if they knew the ice cold fighter was so warm inside and out.”

Taeyong can’t help it, he moans. Yuta kisses his shoulder again and Taeyong nods. Yuta adds another finger.

Taeyong grips onto Yuta tighter, with slightly more desperation. The buildup is always good too, especially when he knows the ultimate payoff it will give him. He moans unabashedly into Yuta’s neck.

“If only the other members of the war party could hear you like this, see you like this,” Yuta’s breath is hot along Taeyong’s ear. He nibbles at the tip and it sends jolts of pleasure down Taeyong’s spine, like electricity. It’s far from a relaxing bath, but Taeyong thinks that peace had never really been the option when he’d fallen in love with Yuta all those years ago.

“Only for you,” Taeyong manages to whisper. The sensitivity of his ears has his insides practically turn to goo. “Only for you.”

Yuta hums and to Taeyong’s dismay, even if he knows what’s coming next, pulls out his fingers. Taeyong can barely hold back his whine.

“I know, love,” Yuta murmurs, massaging his legs and pulling him away slightly, to free their hardened cocks that Taeyong hadn’t realized he’d trapped between their bodies. “I know.”

Taeyong takes a moment to look at Yuta, really look at him, the way he likes the most. He thumbs one of his brows, curves over his cheek, trails to the tiny scar that runs into his lip. Taeyong kisses it, like he always does, and Yuta chases after him. 

Another moment he could stay in forever. Lips sealed together, moving in unison, neither willing to break apart for air until the very last moment possible. Their lips hover close when they do manage to breathe and it’s Yuta who speaks first, with a winded “I love you.”

Taeyong pauses. Not because it’s uncommon for them to say, but because of the slight tremble in Yuta’s voice, only able to be picked up from how close in proximity they are.

There’s a lot unsaid in that phrase.  _ We’ll win this war, we will survive, I believe in you _ . It’s all there, wrapped in those three words. Taeyong says it all back in four. “I love you, too.”

Yuta’s smile is almost bittersweet—Taeyong knows exactly what he’s thinking about. The worst possible ending.

He pushes his mouth back onto Yuta’s to erase that, to erase any of those thoughts that may be invading his head.  _ We won’t think of that, not now _ . When Taeyong pulls away, the look on Yuta’s face has changed to one of pure adoration and understanding.

_Okay, love_ —is what it says— _I will only think of you._

Taeyong buries his head back into the crook of Yuta’s neck and Yuta lifts him up by the thighs slightly. Taeyong gasps when Yuta’s cock catches on his rim. Yuta presses a long kiss to his shoulder and Taeyong nods. He sinks onto Yuta’s cock slowly and once it’s inside him completely, they both slump into each other.

He likes being held like this, with Yuta inside of him. He likes it the other way around too, when it’s his turn to spoil Yuta silly. Often, it’s rougher, but that’s how Yuta likes it from Taeyong and here in the hot springs, this is how Taeyong likes it from Yuta.

Yuta, as promised, does all of the work. He gently grinds his hips upwards, breaths hot but soothing on Taeyong’s nape and back as Taeyong whispers moans into Yuta’s skin.

Yuta’s hands slide up Taeyong’s spine and back down. They squeeze his thighs, massage his muscles, and leave no place untouched nor unloved. It makes Taeyong’s body want to sing.

There’s nothing else quite like this, Taeyong thinks. He relishes in the moment—he doesn’t have to think about the war or the fate of the Kingdom for this selfish blip in time. He can relax into his lover’s arms and just be held, be loved.

There’s no desperation when they do this—it’s gradual, slow—they take as much time as they possibly can. Taeyong kisses Yuta’s skin, underneath his jaw, over his Adam’s apple to his shoulder. With his fingers, he traces over scars that he’s memorized so well he doesn’t even need to look at them, all while Yuta whispers sweet nothings into his ear. “I love you,” “you’re beautiful,” “my everything,” he hears it all and each one heals him in a place he didn’t know was hurting. Despite everything that could happen after this, Taeyong knows that no matter what, he’ll always have Yuta.

It’s nice to be filled, to be gently rocked on a lover’s lap as pleasure builds, surely and slowly. Taeyong combs his other hand through Yuta’s hair, massaging his scalp. When Yuta’s breathing gets heavier and his hips start to lose rhythm, Taeyong reaches down between them and starts to stroke himself, almost lazily. It’s not something either of them want to get over with, but Taeyong finds a different kind of joy and pleasure in being Yuta’s ultimate undoing.

Yuta kisses Taeyong’s shoulder, making sure he’s okay, and Taeyong nods. He quickens his own hand and when he starts to tighten, feels himself on the edge of bursting, he pulls Yuta’s head off from his shoulder and seals their lips together.

Taeyong’s release causes Yuta’s and for that moment, bodies tensed up and pleasure shooting out, Taeyong can’t breathe. His eyes are shut tight and all he feels is Yuta, Yuta everywhere, his skin, his lips, pulsing inside of him. It’s intoxicating and addicting—if Taeyong could feel this way all the time he would slowly descend into lunacy, the feeling is too good.

Taeyong relaxes with a gasp of air and Yuta sighs into his mouth. He continues to gently rock into Taeyong until his momentum slows to a complete halt. They stay there, together, for who knows how long. Taeyong slumps into him and feels like he could fall asleep just like that.

Yuta rubs his back soothingly. “Come on, love, let’s get you to bed.”

Taeyong doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to do anything but stay with Yuta the way they are.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yuta whispers. He nudges Taeyong’s face to look up so that he can kiss him. It’s a distraction so he can slide out of Taeyong with minimal complaint, but Taeyong still feels the emptiness all the same. What never leaves him is Yuta’s warmth.

Yuta kisses him again, long and soft, hands caressing Taeyong’s face while tucking his messy hair behind his ears. “Come on love, you’ll have sweeter dreams in bed.”

Taeyong may be the General of the Army, may be one of the leading figures of the war, and is responsible for what happens to the Elven Kingdom, but in Yuta’s arms he is Taeyong, he is _love_. With the weight of the world holding him down everywhere else, it’s the one thing that pulls him to stand upright once more.

He reaches up and trails his thumb over Yuta’s cheekbone, looking over his face that seems to sparkle in the moonlight.

“What is it, love?” Yuta whispers softly.

Taeyong just smiles. He wants to still this moment in time so that he can remember it for as long as he lives. Just Taeyong, Yuta, and their love.


End file.
